Konoha Mental Hospital
by Devilslilsistaxo678
Summary: After a failed suicide attempt Uchiha Itachi is sent to a psychiatric hospital to live. In the Akatsuki ward he meets many new people, including the strange Ichiro Hezaa. When a therapist from the past returns to cause trouble to the patients can Itachi and his friends stop him before he kills again. Au, ItachixOC also includes yaoi SasoDei NaruSasu KakuHi, KakaIru, also PeinKo
1. Chapter 1

**Chp1.**

I walk silently up the steps of the mansion; my feet feel heavy, my eyes ache, and my wrists itch. The butler opens the door and I walk by him as if he was not even there, but he is used to this. I walk as slowly and calmly as possible, although I have this deep desire to bolt to my room, to lock myself inside and never come out. I shake the thought and continue at my even pace, still under his gaze. He does not know what I am about to do no one does. I make it into the upstairs hallway and as soon as I am out of his line of vision my feet pick up the pace and I bolt the last few feet to my room. I unlock the door, my hands are shaking my body is excited but I feel almost nothing inside, not yet. I slip inside and the door closes with a gentle thud behind me. The lock slides into place and my heart skips slower until my pulse is normal.

I breathe in, then slowly I release a heavy almost painful sigh. I have six midterms this week, four projects to turn in. There is a track meet on Wednesday, and a swim meet on Thursday, calligraphy Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, and three different Kendo competitions during the school day. There is no time to spend with Sasuke, seeing how I have to go to work with Father every free moment I am allowed. It's too much, this life, these stupid activities, I hate them all. I feel my knuckles crack as my hands form into fists. I peel off my uniform jacket and shirt, private schooling, what a wonderful way to make people who can't afford a better education feel like complete shit. I head in the direction of my bureau. From the second drawer I pull an old black shirt, hidden in its fading fabrics are splatters of red.

This is my favorite shirt; it is the symbol of my suffering. I slip it on and walk to the side of my bed, sliding down to the floor and look at the different stories sprinkled along its threads. A red dripping line on the stomach, from when I got an A- in Calculus, father was thoroughly disappointed, cut. A lovely red dripping from on my chest, finding out that my cousin died, I cried, cut. The biggest blood splatter of all resting on the side of my waist, I had to work right after a track meet. While I was gone, the people who I am forced to call parents harassed Sasuke to the point where I was almost sure he would fall into the same pattern as me, CUT. So many reasons, all in only a span of six months, sometimes I even find it hard to believe. It feels like one of those movies where you're watching the main character slipping into a dark state of mind. I am that character, and I am losing this mental battle. Temptation calls, I can hear it singing in my veins, singing from the bedside table drawer by my head. I reach up and pull out the switch blade, it's already opened. The hilt is red with the Uchiha symbol on it, standing out as a beacon for my suffering. It feels like its vibrating in the palm of my hand, this little knife. This little knife is just like any other produced by the stinking, filthy, disgustingly, rich family for which I belong. The Uchiha family is known far and wide for its vast ownership of Clothing stores, video games, grocery stores, restaurant chains, and most important Weaponry. You name it, the Uchiha Company owns it. I hate it, and I will have to take over it. Father wants it and he shall get whatever he wants. It's sad, I've always wanted to do something meaningful with my life, but that probably will not happen. I will just become a slave to the company.

My senses are burning, my wrists itch. I feel all the expectations fall away when I make the first cut. Its quick, not close to my veins, it bleeds yet doesn't feel like enough. I create a new line, longer, deeper, more blood seeps out. The feeling is starting to go away, but I need more blood, more life. I slice the deepest I have ever gone, directly over my veins. The blood flies and begins to cascade down my arms like a waterfall of red. It's breathtaking and I feel high, powerful, and woozy?

To deep, I run to the bathroom on wobbly legs, the world tilting. I catch myself on the wall before I fall too far. I make it to the sink and run water over the cuts. God it burns so bad, this doesn't feel good anymore. My skin is pale once more, but as soon as I remove it from the water the red comes again. I push it under the water again, wishing it away with all my might. But when I pull it from the cold the red continues to come through. I grab a towel and tie it tightly around my wrist. I feel so dizzy, so weak, am I dying? The thought makes my chest flutter, it feels…right. I remove the towel and stare at the stained material. I want to die, I really want to die. I cannot believe my little cuts have morphed into accidental suicide. I stumble to my feet and take a few shaky steps into the bedroom. No way in hell I will bleed out in a bathroom. My knees give out and I barely catch myself in time. I slump over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. Its black, a shiny jet black, I painted it myself. Before it was a horrible pale white, I hated it. It reminded me to much of my skin, like paper. So I painted it black, like ink, like my hair, like my parents souls. The world blurs more, my eyes hurt so much.

"Hey bro can I borrow your-" Sasuke stops above me, eyes wide, "Oh my god Itachi!" he screams.

"I'm sorry, Sasuke," I mumble, I'm sorry I gave you a key.

"Hold on- Mom Dad!"

I try to tell him to stop, but I cannot seem to form words. I let a smile creep onto my face; maybe I'll be dead before they bring help. I chuckle at the thought and watch as the world around me fades to nothing. No sound penetrates my ear drums, no one calls my name. My eyes see nothing but black, a relaxing change. I still smell iron, I wonder if that will follow me to the afterlife. I feel the cuts on my wrist still searing in pain, but it soon dulls to a light throb. I feel at peace for the first time in my life. I feel free.

Bleach stings my nostrils, white greets my eyes, heart monitor shatters the silence. I'm not dead; I'm alive, trapped in a hospital, this body, this life. I had given up, but apparently no one else did. I sit up, leaning on my good arm for support. My wrist is covered in white gauze that makes my arm look like a wing. I feel ridiculous, I feel sadness, I feel…hopeless.

"Hey you're up?"

I turn to see in one of the tacky hospital chairs next to my bed is Sasuke, looking rather tired. His hair is sticking up more than usual, and he has large dark circles under his eyes. He is wearing the same outfit, if I recall, from when he found me on the floor. Just a casual pair of jeans and a black sweatshirt. He looks exactly like me, but with shorter hair, and larger eyes. It's hard to believe he's-

My eyes widen and I stop breathing for a second. My heart monitor beeps a little faster. He sits up abruptly and looks at me startled; he doesn't understand what I have done.

"What is the date?" I ask, having a silent battle in my head.

"It's July 23rd why do you ask?" he doesn't even know.

"Oh God," I gasp, not even looking at him, I accidently tried to kill myself the day before Sasuke's Birthday.

I almost died, that would have pushed him too far. He would have become my perfect copy if I died. He would have become a cutter like me, or worse a druggie. Who knows what he would do if I were to have died. Mother and Father, those evil creatures would ruin him. They'd blame him for everything, my death, the company losing money, even a gray hair. The heart monitor keeps beating in my ear, I am freaking out.

"Itachi are you ok? What's wrong, do I need to get the nurse?" he stands, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm a horrible person." I sigh.

"No you're not, don't say that," he says in a calm tone.

"It's your birthday, I almost killed myself the day before you turned fifteen. I'm as bad as Mother and Father." I growl, I almost want to cry just to show him how remorseful I am.

"They don't even know it's my birthday, they probably think I'm ten or something." He tries to say in a joking manner, but his voice cracks.

I pull him into a hug, feeling his tears seep into my hospital gown. He is the only one I let this close, the only one I would let see me weak.

"Who cares about those people. I'm such a terrible person Sasuke, I'll make it up to you somehow." I mumble.

"You're alive, that's enough for me." I pull him closer after hearing those words, he is too forgiving.

"It's still not enough, I'll figure something out I promise you." I pull him out of my arms, he is dead asleep.

He must not have slept much because of me. I gently lay him down beside me and cover him with the sheet. I'm suddenly hit with a wave of nausea, I feel dizzy, sleepy. I lay down next to Sasuke. And let my eyes slide shut. My wrists are throbbing; the drugs must have worn off. Oh well. I feel my body sink deeper into the mattress, and I release a sigh before falling asleep.

"A psychiatric hospital?" I say with disdain, I glare at the two people who I am required to call my parents.

"Well Itachi dear you did try to kill yourself." Mother says, her concern is so fake.

"You have so much to live for, a great life, a large company to inherit, why try to throw that all away?" Father asks sternly.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I may not want that kind of life?" I question angrily, "I refuse to inherit the company, and I refuse to even refer to you people as my parents." My hands are covering Sasuke's ears, I want; no need him to stay asleep.

"What do you mean you wanted to take over the company before!" Father shouts, his face is starting to turn red.

"I have never said that, those are the words you shoved down my throat."

"You will be the heir to the Uchiha Industry. You're the only one who can inherit it."

"Oh and what is Sasuke then, just a result of mother forgetting to take her birth control?"

"Are you suggesting that I do not love Sasuke?" Mother asks, her face is revealing that I am assuming correctly.

"I am, all you people do is push him around, abuse him, and smash his dreams." I hiss, Sasuke is all I have; I will die before I let this people hurt him again.

"We do not abuse him I have never laid a finger on him!" she stammers angrily, red blotches appearing through her perfect make up.

"For your information, neglect is a form of abuse. You yell at him if he does something wrong, even when it is the tiniest mistake. Sasuke do this, do that, why can't you be more like your brother."

They stare at me in shock, probably thinking where they had gone wrong. Well I wish I knew the answer to that myself. Sasuke stays asleep, which I am so thankful for. He does not need to hear the hurtful things these people say about him. The door knob rattles. In walk two woman, neither of which I have seen before, and neither are nurses.

The first of the two is tall with blond hair pulled back into two pony tails. Her gray blouse is low cut and her black pants stop right above her purple high heels. She looks to be in her late twenties, but her amber colored eyes seem to say otherwise. The woman next to her is short, her black hair cut in a stylish bob aligning with her chin. She is wearing a little black dress with gray leggings and a pair of ballet flats. She looks hip, yet sophisticated. Her black eyes seem kind, but still analytical; she is judging me I am sure.

"Good afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Uchiha," says the blonde, her voices is gritty "My name is Tsunade and this is my coworker Shizune."

"We are here to discuss your sons admission into our care facility." Shizune says in an almost dreamy tone.

Fuck me.


	2. Chapter 2

I slid down the banister and bolted into the kitchen. I smile grabbing the sandwich on the counter. I open my mouth wide but stop and look at the ingredients on the counter. Hm... some ham, tomatoes, lettuce, mayo, oh and rat poison. If only dad could see how crazy mom gets when he's not around to remind her to take her meds. Even going so far as to kill her own child. Mom is sick. Dad has been telling me this since I was little. But I don't see how a person who is meant to be a caregiver, a provider, could go so far as to end the life which they have created. Mom's Sick Hezaa, well then Hezaa is sick too. It's hard when Dad goes on his business trips. Mom doesn't take her pills, and then Hezaa becomes the monster. He's gone for a month, and I already have to deal with the attempts at murder my mother throws at me.  
Yeah. I am sick, i am suicidal. Not a day goes by that i don't think of a million ways to hurt myself. I am already a cutter. I probably need medication, therapy, a good dose of the shocks. But having urges to throw yourself off roofs or hang myself from the balcony, is not something you tell all your friends. It's nothing to brag about like "Oh look at my new cut its sooo much bigger than yours." No it's not a good thing it's a stupid thing. But once you start its hard to ever stop. I need these marks.

I dump the sandwich into the trash can. Shit, I have that itch again. I have done something wrong by not eating the sandwich mom worked so hard to make. My presence is causing her pain. My existence is a burden to her. I am better off dead. And it hurt that i am so unwanted, unloved. Just an ugly little girl in my mother's eye's. I am nothing, I am no one. I deserve death, I need death. Then Mommy would be happy. No ugly little demon will exist, then Mommy will be happy.

...I have to kill myself_**.**_

I always think of shit like this but this time it was different. I had determination, the courage to end my life. I slowly walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs, savoring my final moments on this Earth. I knew exactly how I want to do it. I need to submerge myself. I need to lay in the cool pools of water and watch the blood swirl around me. It would be an ugly sight for Father to see when he gets home. Two weeks from now my body will look disgusting, the water will be thick, the room will smell like death and misery. My poor father, my dear sweet father, it's his fucking fault for leaving me.

I slid into my room and change into my bathing suit. No way was I going to be found in the nude. I pull down my hair and let it fall to my shoulders. I then examine my features in the mirror.  
My hair is long and dark brown like a chestnut, although to me it looked more like mud. Tints of almost unnatural reds seem to illuminate in streaks throughout it. My eyes are a strange almost greenish gold color. No life or spark in them at all. I examine my arms, red cuts travel all up the front of my skinny arms. My legs shake from the cold of the house. My bathing suit is all black, with the exception of my red straps. I look pale, almost like a dead person. Except I'm breathing like some living zombie freak.

Mom is screaming from downstairs, her cries echoing all around me, she must have found the sandwich. I stand in the center of my room and listen as she barrels up the stairs and begins to slam herself against my door, screaming like a mad woman.

"You fucking monster!" she cries, "Where the fuck is my daughter, what have you done to her! Why do you have her face you fucking thief, you murderer!"

I cringe and bite at my lip, feeling the tears come. She knows just what to say to make me cry, fucking bitch I hate her! She hates me, why does she hate me. If I'm dead then maybe she would love me? Is that what I have to do for love, die? The screaming continues and I finally feel a bubble of rage rise from my stomach, I walk to my door and slam on it and scream like some feral monster, just like mother thinks I am. As the scream dies on my throat I listen to her whimpers as she begins to cry quietly for the return of her real little girl.  
I whimper, turning away from my door. I slip into the bathroom closing the door gently behind me. I walk over to the tub and turn on the water; i plug up the drain and wait. The water rises slowly. Maybe I should write Daddy a note?

I enter back into my room and search around my desk until I find a bright orange sharpie. I look upon my bare wall next to the bathroom and place the uncapped writing utensil against it:

Dear Father,  
I'm sorry for doing this but i couldn't take it any longer. This way mommy will be happy. I'm sorry about the smell, but if I light candles I could start a fire. Please know I love you,

Hezaa

I let the sharpie slip from my grip, it clatters to the floor. It feels real this time, I am about to go to my death, to my grave, to sleep. Sleep, I like the thought of that better. I'm just going to take a little nap in the tub, no harm in that. When I return to the bathroom the tub is full. I stop the water and slip inside, hissing as the water burns at my pale skin. I sit in the tub, taking in the warm water. My skin is bright red, I must look like a lobster, as if I'm cooking. I let the thought slip and turn to look at the bath mat beside the tub. I reach out and throw it away. Underneath I have a scalpel from art class. The little blade I had come to admire came home with me. To think it could create such beauty, and so much death.

It had been my companion since my freshman year, and now it would bring about my demise. I lightly kiss the blade, then I place it against my criss crossed wrists. Slowly I drag it up my arm. I gasp and almost gag as the blood begins to flow like water. The drops fall slowly, creating cascades of red, it's beautiful, my little blade in its cold destruction makes such lovely art with my body. I repeat the process, giggling as the red falls more and swirls into such lovely patterns. How wonderful, if death is this fun why haven't I tried it before?

My question is answered when a sudden dead chill goes up my spine. I feel cold, yet the water is steaming. I feel weak; I slip deeper into the water. My vision grows blurry, everything fuzzy. God this is terrible, why did I do this? This isn't fun anymore. Mom is screaming again, banging on the door, telling the monster to let her poor girl go. Well Mom, the monster is letting her go. Life is letting me go.  
"Heh i did it Mommy." I chuckle grimly then I shut my eyes.

I wake up, which is strange. I always thought you just appear. Heaven, or hell, isn't what I expected it to be. Its noisy here, lots of blips and beeps, and a lot of white. Ok so maybe this is heaven, which does explain the glowing at the edges of my eyes, but not the noises. I would expect harps or something. I open my eyes fully and see I am looking up at a lamp, which is making an irritating buzzing sound over head. Oh shit, please don't tell me. I try to sit up but find that I've been strapped down to my bed. I begin to panic, feeling air rush into my lungs. I struggle, hearing a beeping increase as I fight against my binds. I feel two hands on my shoulder pushing me back against the mattress. I whip my head around to see my father looming over me. He looks tired, his face unshaven, his brown hair looking grayer than I have ever seen it. His green eyes, hidden behind a set of glasses are filled with pain. I stop struggling and feel tears pooling in my eyes.

"Daddy?" I whisper, feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden.

"You gave me a scare sweetie." He chokes, a smile trying to work its way onto his face, his arms slip down to his sides and he sits down on the edge of my bed, "You're lucky."

"Why?" I mumble.

"I came home early." He sighs, "I had a hunch."

"Daddy, I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough."I begin to sob.

Dad leans forward and brings me into an awkward hug. It's hard to hug back when I am strapped down to a bed.

"It's ok sweetie, I know this isn't your fault. We're going to get you help ok?" He whispers, "Raising you in an environment like that, I should have known it could have caused some problems for you."

"I thought Mommy would be happy if I was dead."

"Mommy is confused honey; she doesn't see the way we do. No one will be happy if you die Hezaa, especially not me, I love you. And I am going to get you help."

"Help?"

"You're going to go away for a little while honey. It will be like a vacation from Mom, kind of like camp."

"I stopped wanting to go to camp when I was fifteen Daddy." I say, he chuckles at me.

"I know, you're all grown up, but that doesn't mean a seventeen year old can't take a vacation."

"Where am I going?" I ask.

"A place where you will be safe."

My safe place turned out to be Konoha Mental Hospital. A vacation from mom was right, I have been here for eight months. Dad visits every weekend possible, always bringing me books, colored pencils, chocolate, all the things that make me happy. Sometimes I am in a good mood. And other times I scream and call him horrible things for putting me here. Sometimes I cry, because I miss seeing him every morning. But he just takes it in stride, because he knows I'm sick, just not as sick as my mother. She is in a ward now. In a hospital in Suna, far away from me. Dad still loves her, but he tells me he loves me more. Mom is a lost cause. But if I am her daughter, could I be a lost cause too?

From the hospital I have meet people; I have made friends, who understand me. My best friend is named Konan. She is wonderful, but she doesn't like to open up. The dorm we live in is called Akatsuki, the adults Jounin and the kids, Academy. I even learned a little about my new friend's pasts. One girl in particular has a more interesting past, maybe because her reason for being here isn't due to abuse or neglect. She lives a few rooms down with another girl named Ino, her name is Sakura.


End file.
